


The Artist

by snarkysweetness



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Painting, Sketches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 07:47:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkysweetness/pseuds/snarkysweetness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>August spends his evenings immortalizing his sleeping princess onto the canvass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Artist

It was the same thing every night; he’d kick off the covers, unable to sleep, and pace across the length of their small bedroom, being careful not to awaken her. Eventually he would grow restless, throw himself in his armchair, and watch the love of his life sleep. He didn’t know how she did it, slept so peacefully. Their lives weren’t much different; they’d been abandoned, grown up alone, in pain, and suffered. Only while he’d drowned his sorrows she’d learned to deal with them. He supposed he just wasn’t used to being forced to sleep while sober.

He smirked as she mumbled in her sleep and turned over. The moonlight spilled into the room, illuminating her skin. Without thinking, he reached for the small sketchpad he kept on the nightstand and opened it to the first clean page.

Who was he kidding? He wasn’t lacking sleep because of his demons. He had no reason to be haunted anymore. He had everything he wanted; his father, Henry, and Emma. If he really wanted to he could sleep, just as soundly as his princess was, completely wrapped up in her arms. But the problem was, he enjoyed watched her. She was beautiful when she slept. All of the hard lines on her face fell away, her worries disappeared, and she was just…

His princess.

He wanted to cherish those small moments where she was completely serene.

August’s little hobby had started on a whim. He’d always been artistically talented, from the time when he was a small boy. His father had taught him to carve, how to delicately piece together wood to make beautiful things, and eventually how to etch designs into the grain. It was the beginning of his education. In this world, with no outlet to continue the work his father had taught him, he’d turned to using a pen and paper. It had begun with sketches, then colorings, and eventually painting. The writing had come later, when he was older, and taken over his attentions, but he’d never given up his love of drawing.

After fixing Henry’s book he’d become obsessed with picking up where he’d left off. He’d tried drawing things from his memory, their land, even the town, but at the end of the day his sketchbooks would only be filled with one thing; Emma. Her hair billowing in the wind, the sad look in her eyes as she pored over case files, and the way her eyes lit up whenever she enjoyed a mug of hot chocolate or Henry was in the room; all of the little moments that only he seemed to take notice of.

The first night they’d made love he’d stayed up late into the morning committing her naked form to paper so he’d never forget that night. Then they’d moved in together and his hobby of drawing her had become a nightly ritual, one she seemed to find amusing.

_“I almost look better in one of your lead drawings than I do in the flesh,” she teased as he came up behind him in his studio._

_“Don’t be silly, you’re the most gorgeous person in every single world in existence. I just want to immortalize that beauty.” He whispered as he picked up his brush to transfer his sketch to the canvas. Emma wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek._

_“Paint me like one of your French girls,” she teased with a small smile._

August grinned as he filled in the lines of his sketch. He was glad she didn’t mind his sketching, he’d have stopped long ago if he thought it would make her uncomfortable, but she encouraged it so here he was, doing it again.

He finished and watched her for another moment before standing. He tucked his sketchbook underneath his arm and made his way to his art studio. It was nothing more than a small corner in the workshop he’d set up in the garage to teach Henry how to carve and build things. Emma had complained at first, the point in having a house with a garage was for her to have a place to park her car, but after seeing how happy the workshop made Henry she’d stopped.

August paused in the hallway and poked his head in to check on the kid who was sound asleep. He smiled and quietly closed the kid’s door, not wanting his excursion into the garage to wake him. After a short trip to the kitchen for a snack of an apple with peanut butter and bottle of water, he tiptoed into the garage to spend the rest of his night painting. When he flipped on the switch he met with a surprise.

“Emma?” He sputtered in surprise. Emma was sprawled across one of their lawn chairs wearing nothing but a small smirk. Already turned on, he stepped into the room and discarded his sketchpad, needing his hands free for all of the things he wanted to do to her. He reached out for her but she slapped his hands away.

“I want you to paint me.”

“Now?”

She gave him a small nod. He stood for a moment, conflicted. He was incredibly hard and sure she wouldn’t complain if he abandoned her request so he could make love to her but he also wanted the chance to paint her while she was awake. His desire to immortalize her beauty won out and he sat in his chair and immediately went for his paints.

He bit his lower lip as he painted, focusing on making this his masterpiece. Transferring her enchanting nature wasn’t easy but when he finished, he thought he’d managed to do a good job. He inspected his work and decided it was good enough to share with her.

“Babe, come-“ His voice caught in his throat as he glanced up to find her standing before him. He swallowed hard and averted his gaze from her body to her eyes. Even though they’d been together for over a year, she never failed to arouse or amaze him.

“I said, paint me,” she whispered, taking his paint covered hands in her own and pulling him to his feet. She gave him a mischievous grin before leaning up to kiss him. Their lovemaking was quick, neither wanting to be caught by the kid and both too turned on to waste time with games. His hands touched every inch of her that he could reach and they knocked over paints as they fumbled their way to the lawn chair. He held her in his lap as his lips explored every inch of her neck while she moved over him. He whispered in her ear how much she mesmerized him and she reminded him that she loved him. When they were finished they were covered in different vibrant colors, as was the concrete floor, but somehow, miraculously, his painting sat untainted.

“You’re really talented, you know?” She whispered as she drew small circles in the still wet paint on his chest. August brushed her hair away from her shoulder and kissed it before smiling down at her.

“It’s only because I have such perfect source material.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

He kissed the tip of her nose and pulled her against his chest.

“Your superpower is broken.” He brought his lips down to hers and kissed her slowly. “Now, would you like me to prove that I’m telling the truth?”

Her eyes gleamed as she smirked.

“Always,” she replied huskily before kissing him. August tangled his fingers in her hair and broke away to trail his lips over her jawline.

“I love you,” he growled as she toyed with the hair on his chest. She grinned and looked up at him challengingly.

“Prove it.”

August crushed his lips to hers and spent the rest of the night showing his muse how she inspired him.


End file.
